


Just Dessert

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, Pie, nothing bad happens i promise, post-135 therapy writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sebastian and Ciel spend some time together in the kitchen.





	Just Dessert

**Author's Note:**

> A sweet, innocent drabble -- pure fluff to take our minds off of chapter 135.

“Sebastian.” 

“Young master.” 

“What are you doing?” He stands there, a hand on his hip, casually haughty. The butler is surprised to see his master in the kitchen, let alone inquiring what he’s doing. Obviously, he’s cooking. 

Sebastian, elbow-deep in flour and red smudges, explains that he is making dessert to follow the young lord’s dinner – a strawberry rhubarb pie, both ingredients freshly plucked from the manor’s garden. 

The young noble must be bored of his paperwork, because he draws closer to the counter and says to Sebastian, “Show me how.” 

Sebastian attempts to dissuade him, explains there’s no reason for someone in his situation to know how to prepare a pie; he’s a noble, so he will always have servants around to care for him and cook his meals. Besides, Ciel is a child and only ever will be a child, though Sebastian does not address this; Ciel’s time on this earth is limited, and he will likely not be presented with a chance to cook for himself as an adult. 

Ciel responds that if he is a noble it is all the more reason to have such a skill in his repertoire. He is already well-rounded in music and art and rhetoric and business management and murder; how could learning how to bake a pie be an issue? 

There is no order given, no explicit command, but Sebastian happily gives in and has his young master wash his hands and remove his jacket. He ties a small white apron around his thin waist and pulls him closer to show him how to roll out the dough, using it to line the pie tin as Ciel washes the strawberries. With a large spoon held in his little hand, Ciel mixes the diced fruit with the rhubarb and the lemon zest and cinnamon and vanilla in a large bowl as Sebastian prepares the doughy accoutrements for the top of the pie. With a guiding hand from Sebastian, Ciel tips the heavy bowl of filling into the pie crust and spreads it evenly over the bottom. 

For tonight’s dish, Sebastian slices an intricate latticework pattern into the large round section of dough and situates it carefully over the top of the pie as Ciel watches. He has several leaves cut out of the extra dough to line up along the edges of the pie crust.

He almost hesitates, thinks twice, then carefully hands the knife over to Ciel so he can try his hand at cutting the dough himself. Sebastian cleans up the remainder of the ingredients while his master fiddles with the dough. His leaf is uneven, ragged along the sides. The indents he has made to replicate the stem and veins of the leaf are asymmetrical and juvenile. Sebastian smiles at his young master’s work while the noble looks at it with disdain. 

Ciel hums, “It’s not very good, is it?” and sets down his knife, meaning to reach out and grab the creation and squish it back into a usable section of dough. But Sebastian is faster – curse his demonic abilities – and he scoops the doughy leaf up from the counter before Ciel can curl his fingers around it. 

“Nonsense,” he says. “My master’s handiwork is impeccable for a first attempt.” Ciel watches, slightly embarrassed but undeniably pleased beneath his annoyance as Sebastian situates the sloppy leaf alongside the edge of the pie, inlaid with his own pristine cut-outs. He lays on a few more doughy embellishments, rounded bunches of leaves dappled here and there across the canvas of the pie crust. He explains how he recombined the separated egg with water and now brushes it evenly over the surface of the decorated pie before placing it into the oven to be baked. 

As the oven door closes, sealing in the heat that had escaped into the kitchen, Ciel nods haughtily and removes his apron. “It’s really that simple, then,” he says as he hands Sebastian the flour-dusted garment. 

“I suppose so. Perhaps the young master will grace us with his presence down here in the kitchen more often now,” Sebastian replies. “It certainly makes the work more enjoyable.”

“I doubt it,” the boy says as he turns on his heel and leaves. 

Hours later, after Ciel has eaten his dinner and cleaned his plate, Sebastian brings out a slice of their dessert. It smells delicious, and right before Ciel stabs into it with his fork, he notices the embellished edge of the dish, the crust golden and flaky. It is his leaf, slumped and uneven and hidden between the layers of Sebastian’s immaculate handiwork. He can’t help but glare at Sebastian’s back as his butler carries the serving platter out of the dining room, leaving his master alone with his dessert. 

It is indeed delicious, scrumptious and sweet, and Ciel savors the sugary red mix on his lips and the tines of his fork. Working his way out to the edge, Ciel wipes up the drops of spilled crimson filling with the bits of savory crust. He eats his leaf last, much to his own chagrin. He does not want to acknowledge the pride he feels at having played a part in making such a tasty dish, that he and Sebastian have created something other than ruin, something that does not lead to pain and suffering. They cooked, made a pie, together, and that fact makes him somehow uncomfortable as he wipes up the last bit of pie filling with his imperious little finger and licks it clean, muttering. 

“Stupid butler… It’s just dessert.”


End file.
